


North Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

by WritingIsMyCoffee



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gift Exchange, Happy Holidays Skelly! I hope you like it!, Hurt/Comfort, Jericrew Christmas, Rated T for Teen bc these revolutionary heroes Swear, The Eden Club is mentioned but nothing explicit is said, this fic is secretly an excuse for me to rant about the polar express oops sorry skelly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 01:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingIsMyCoffee/pseuds/WritingIsMyCoffee
Summary: North doesn't get the holidays. She doesn't get the human traditions or why all her friends gravitate so heavily to them. But that doesn't really matter because she still has an invite to Markus' dumb Christmas party, along with Josh and Simon, and North really, really doesn't want to be anywhere near Simon right now.How are you supposed to send a Christmas vacation with your friend who you basically left to die?





	North Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a Secret Santa gift for Skelly on our DBH discord server. Happy holidays bud!!!! I hope you like your gift!

There is a shelf of brightly-printed cookbooks before North, each plastered with the same image of a beaming human lady. She is turned at an angle, a steaming pot of some butchered animal grasped in her perfectly manicured hands. There is a smile more plastic than any android stretched across her glossy lips. This fabrication of happiness is an easy trigger for North’s temper, but she swallows the fire in her belly and picks up a copy for Simon.

Then she sees the price above the bar code. Nope. Simon loves cooking, but he can love something else for less than $29.95.

North has never had the liberty to go shopping before, but with the revolution over and android rights solidified, she has the right to participate in the holiday shopping season as everyone else. Even so, the idea hadn’t been all that exciting to her to begin with, and traversing through the commercialized world of human traditions offers little to sway her. All around her are icons of the Baby Jesus, whose parent supposedly gave life to everything on Earth. North’s Baby Jesus is technically her friend Chloe, but thinking of her or Elijah Kamski as her divine saviors is a  _ Big Fucking No _ . Not to mention all the samples of food she can’t eat, or the warm hearth of a fire she can’t feel, or the whiny brats crying in the department store than can grow and change at time’s will.

It’s a holiday centered around arguably the most important birth of the known universe. North was born in a factory as a woman in her thirties.

The season is lost on her. However, it isn’t for Markus, who has celebrated Christmas with his father ever since he was given to him. Now her friend has invited the whole “Jericrew” (as they are now referred to) over to Carl’s to celebrate. It’s a three-day ordeal, starting with Christmas Eve and ending on the 26th. That’s three days couped up with an elderly human, Markus, fucking Josh, and Simon.

God, somehow she’d rather hang with a million humans over the weekend than Simon. Simon, the one who found her wandering blindly through Jericho in nothing but a ripped pair of lingerie. Simon, who put his jacket around her shoulders and gifted her with the first pair of clothing that actually belonged to her. Simon, who offered his support without ever forcing it, and was there when her dam of Eden Club memories burst. Simon, who became so impossibly close to her those four short weeks before Markus’ fall into grace. Simon, her best friend, her  _ brother _ , who she wanted Markus to kill at Stratford Tower.

How the hell is North supposed to look him in the eye tomorrow and act like everything is holly jolly? How is she supposed to rebuild their bridge when he made his bitterness quite clear during the siege of Jericho?

_ It’s too late for her, Markus  _ roughly translates to,  _ Fuck you North.  _

A pricey cookbook isn’t going to bring back what they’ve lost. Maybe nothing will. But if North doesn’t go, Markus will be heartbroken, and for as stoic as he appears she knows how far his river of sensitive flows. Not to mention Josh will hound her for a reason why, and North knows it’ll come from a place of genuine concern, but  _ god damn you were there when it all went down you know what I said you know what he said you know why I don’t want to talk about this- _

North stops herself, takes a deep breath she doesn’t need to, and releases it ten seconds after. Markus had recommended they all go to therapy at least once a week, and as hard as North fought against the idea she does admit having better control over her mind is a blessing. Breathing exercises are no joke.

She grounds herself in reality and focuses on the matter of hand. Presents. She’s buying presents. Not worrying about what Josh will say, or how Markus will feel, or Simon...just Simon. Besides what present she’s going to get him, of course.

Shopping should be easy after fighting in a revolution but it’s fucking  _ hard _ . Why is it so hard?! She bought Markus some oil paints, which feels too obvious for her liking. He’ll love them of course, because he’s Markus  _ Manfred _ , but he’s going to get paints from everyone who knows him. North couldn’t even dig a little bit deeper than  _ that? _

Josh is getting a bunch of books written by old, crusty, dead men because that’s just the kind of shit he likes. He’s probably already read them all or has access to them in his massive literary database, but  _ whatever _ . North is tired and she still needs to get Simon a present and she doesn’t have time to overanalyze the irony of giving Josh a copy of  _ War and Peace _ .

Ready to burn down the entire store, North takes one last pass around the store, grabs a bunch of random stuff that is way more than $29.95, and leaves as helpless as she entered.

 

There is no smell sweeter than that of freshly made snickerdoodles. 

Well, at least that’s what Simon’s scent indicators are telling him, but the statement still stands.

He has baked countless batches of sweets in his lifetime. Cookies, cakes, pies, danishes, etc. None quite give him the same swirling warmth in his chest than snickerdoodles.

Their crisp edge of caramelized sugar, the spiral of cinnamon starting at the gooey center, the buttery inside that melts on one’s tongue. He has to spit them out immediately after trying them, of course, but the one bite his body can handle always takes him back to the small, dingy kitchen he first baked them in.

It’s an art form. A human art form, but an art nonetheless. Markus has his paintings, Josh his books, and Simon his food.

North has...nothing.

The thought gives Simon pause, his hands left buried in the batter of his second batch. Without North being there, he can still hear her disdainful words, criticizing him for giving into his programming, for “letting the humans win after all we’ve sacrificed.”

He knows where her words come from, the pain that spawned them. That doesn’t mean he can ignore the pain he feels because of them.

There’s a lot, frankly, Simon has trouble ignoring. As he begins kneading the sugary mixture, a few examples come to mind. A thirium-stained vent atop of Stratford Tower, the detonator he saw sticking out of her back pocket, the grates that made up Jericho’s flooring, words.

Most of what he tries to forget are words.

It baffles Simon how much of his life has been altered by words alone. He deviated because of a child’s plea. He joined a revolution because of Markus’ inspiring proclamations. He lost his best friend to separate declarations of distress.

At least they are alive, and recognized as so. At least North is joining them for the holidays, despite how much anxiety her presence will bring. At least Carl is going to enjoy his cookies, because he’s the only one who can.

Simon starts balling up the batter into individual cookies and allows himself to take pleasure in his activities.

 

Josh is absolutely jazzed for the holiday season.

Never before has he properly celebrated Christmas, which used to consist of him sitting in a storage closet until the kids from his campus came back from break. Now, his possibilities of commemorating are endless. This year will be Christmas, with the tree and the presents and the carols he may or may not have been singing to himself for the past month. Next year will be Hanukkah, with the menorah and the Festival of Lights and the Feast of Declaration. After that will be Kwanzaa, then whatever else he wishes to explore.

The world is Josh’s oyster, and without a biological family to pass down traditions, he’s looking forward to taking his time to discover how he would wish to celebrate during the lively winter month.

Beyond holidays, there is an abundance of discovery Josh has yet to partake in. The struggle to stay alive had been his main objective for an eternity. Now he has the liberty of discovering who he is, who he likes, what he likes,  _ everything _ . It’s as intimidating of a task as it is exhilarating.

In reality, he’s no different than the young adults he once taught.

This abundant future does not come without its fair share of regrets, however. For every new tidbit of information he acquires, he thinks of the hundreds of androids that had to die to give him such knowledge. He thinks of everyone he allowed to die at Jericho because of his cowardice. He thinks of his needless squabbles with North and his inability to compromise.

He thinks of all the flack he gave Markus, the one who stood up and  _ did something _ for a change. Josh almost wishes his friend would give him some flack in return, but as he arrives at the Manfred mansion a chilly Christmas Eve, he is greeted by soft multi-colored eyes and a wide smile.

“Josh!” Markus’ arms span out to his sides and he moves to embrace Josh. Josh, arms full of wrapped gifts and fruit cake, can only lean into the hug in return. “Merry Christmas!”

Enthusiasm lifts Josh’s cheeks to the crinkled corners of his eyes. “Merry Christmas! I’m sorry, I’m...pretty early.”

Two hours earlier, to be exact, but Markus waves off his concern with a light scoff. “Just more time to celebrate together. And we  _ really _ need that time.”

Josh huffs, feeling the weight that sits atop both their shoulders. “You said it, buddy. Where should I put all this?”

Markus holds the door open as he wanders into the toasty mansion and is shielded from the icy winds outside. “Food goes on the dining table, and presents go under the tree.”

The tree. There’s a  _ tree. _ Josh nearly trips over himself to get to the dining room and sets his brick of food down with a muffled  _ plop _ . Then he turns, not even a full 90 °, and sees the Christmas decoration in all its splendor and glory. Like everything in Carl’s house, it’s dramatic and expressive, standing tall enough that the star on top touches the ceiling. Glittery balls of silver and orange span the entirety of its branches, while individually designed ornaments are scattered in with them. Upon closer inspection, most appeared to be hand-made, either my Carl’s masterful digits or a younger Leo judging by the range of quality.

Josh catches his reflection in a particular shiny ornament as he bends down to lay out his gifts. It’s a star, more accurately the Star of Bethlehem, that’s been made just wide enough to capture his entire face. Josh smiles at himself, stands up, and walks back to Markus with a skip in his step.

 

It is true Markus has celebrated Christmas every year since being gifted to Carl. Where the truth is stretched is how he celebrated, which consisted of him watching Carl pitifully try to convince Leo to come spend the holidays with them. There was some joyous moments with just the two of them, but many of those moments consisted of Carl cursing himself for being so cold or question Markus about how he’d like to spend the season.

He really shouldn’t be surprised as to why he deviated. Carl’s questions were nonstop from the moment the old man warmed up to him. What surprised Markus more is how long it took him to become free of his coded shackles. 

This year will be his first proper Christmas, as will it be for everyone else, and in all honesty Markus is dreading it.

The second he decided to invite his friends over, he confined himself to the role of the host, the peacekeeper, the  _ leader _ .

His break suddenly became something much more constricting, more tiring. He might as well have just stayed at New Jericho dealing with politics than having to put out fires between Simon and North.

However, as he watches Josh put his gifts under the Christmas tree, he finds his fears melting away. The absolute glee on his friend’s face, the skip in his step and he walks back to Markus, ignites something warm and pleasant inside his chest.

Markus has been focused on big victories for so long, he forgot how rewarding little victories can be too.

“Is there anything I can help with?” Josh asks, rocking back and forth on his heels. Markus has never seen him so fidgety. “Anything with decorations or Carl?”

Markus laughs, weirdly amused by the offer. “No, but thank you. Carl won’t wake up for another hour or so. The house is ours until then.”

Josh nods. “Cool….sooooooo….”

“Sooooooo…?”

“What now?”

The age old question, normally unspoken, that forms in one’s head when they are the first to arrive at a social gathering.

Markus stares at Josh.

Josh stares at Markus.

Neither knows how to proceed.

“Uhhhh…” Markus flounders for a solution. “Ever seen  _ The Polar Express? _ ”

They settle themselves on the couch adjacent to the Christmas tree, a plate of thirium-baked cookies between them. Markus boots up the movie, giving Josh a vague synopsis beforehand, and savors every moment of easy social interaction to follow.

No drawn-out conversations. No heavy topics to pass around as a Hot Potato. Just the shrill of violins building and building until the fated blow of a steam engine whistle cuts them off.

 

North doesn’t bother knocking on Carl’s door once she arrives. She barges in like any civilized friend would do when it’s 29° Fahrenheit outside.

The automatic greeting system goes off above her. Fresh snow drifts off her shoulders as she throws her coat and tosses it in the general direction of the hangers on the wall. She misses terribly, but the sound of a screaming child is much more important to her now.

North runs to the living room, her bag of gifts swinging wildly at her side. There’s no need for alarm, however. It’s just a weird-looking animated movie. Markus tears his eyes away from the flat-screen across from him, cheeks glowing as he smiles at her. “Hey North.”

“Hey Markus. Ho ho...ho?” At least she tried. “The fuck’s up with Josh?”

Said friend has his head in his hands, looking more broken than the Jericho freighter ever was. “This dumb kid...could’ve just waited for the girl to come back to get her ticket.  Instead he climbs on top of a MOVING TRAIN and nearly DIES.”

North’s ability to censor herself goes offline. “That’s just humans, Josh.” The pained look Markus gives her makes her try again. “But...we’ve done dumb shit too. Not  _ that _ dumb, but y’know…”

Markus’ expression softens. “You can set your gifts under the tree. We’ve got some cookies left if you want any.”

“Sure.” North launches her bag at the Christmas tree, which rams into its lower half and sends a dozen ornaments spinning. Markus winces, but there is no shock depicted on his face. “Shoot over Josh.”

The movie is garbage, but selective garbage, if that makes any sense. North understands the underlying themes and allegories (except the creepy ghost on top of the train. Seriously, what the hell was he even supposed to  _ be? _ ), but it’s just another holiday relic that was never intended for her. She admires the main girl’s tenacity, but everyone else in the film is just CGI cardboard. 4/10, at least the music kicked ass.

As the credits start rolling, the automatic greeter kicks back into gear. There are soft footsteps padding their way towards them, and North sinks farther and farther into the couch. No no no, she’s having a perfectly good time already watching this stupid Christmas movie. Just five more minutes of ignorant bliss. Just five more-

“Simon!”

Markus and Josh leap into a chorus of salutations, rising from the couch to address Simon proper. North sinks further and further until she is one with the cushions, her hair piling up above her forehead before drifting over her eyes. She’s counting on her own magic train to appear and whisk her away to “Santaland,” but she must not be on his nice list this year.

“I brought cookies for Carl,” Simon announces cheerfully. “I...may have made more than necessary.”

“I’ll send whatever he doesn’t eat to Leo,” Markus assures him. “You know how he’s always complaining about the food at rehab.”

Simon laughs. “Yes, he has told me in great length...Is North here?”

There’s a drop in his tone as he switches subjects, and boy howdy does North need that damn Polar Express right now. She can’t hide forever, not after being put on blast like this

North drags herself to her feet and turns around. “Hey Simon-”

-is what she means to say, but as soon as she stares into the baby blue oceans of his eyes, her composure goes out the window. She chokes on her words, the marbles in her mouth now caught in her throat. All she manages to urk out is a strangled, “H-Ha- _ ah _ .”

Simon looks at her oddly, spiteful but unsure of how to proceed after her poor imitation of a duck. “Um...hello.”

The vinegar coating his words boils with North’s blood. Fuck, she hates this. She can’t handle a three-day staycation like this. Something’s got to give. One of them has to muster up the courage to put an end to their wounded pride and move on.

But like hell North can do it, and she shouldn’t expect anything more from Simon in return.

The tension between them is thick enough to cut through with a knife. Simon won’t look away from her. Is he trying to kill her with his thoughts alone? He’s doing a pretty damn good job at that so far, North has to admit.

Suddenly, Markus claps his hands together, in that obnoxiously loud way that’s to make it clear he wants attention. The tension is severed, even if for just a moment. If North weren’t so rooted to her spot, she would collapse with relief.

“Well, we’re all here,” Markus states, “And it  _ is _ Christmas Eve. Which means Josh?”

Josh‘s eyes light up brighter than the Christmas tree. “The common tradition is that we may open one gift the night before Christmas Day. Right?”

“Exactly.”

Josh radiates pride like a space heater. He’s so damn happy about human traditions and this whole bullshit human holiday...but North swears he has never seemed so at peace before. She wonders when her Josh left to be replaced by this assertive imposture. She also wonders how long it will take for her to realize this is how Josh has always secretly been. Without the bickering, without the hesitation, he has always been sure of what he wants.

Wow, she’s never thought to be jealous of Josh before. What the hell is going on, like honestly?

They gather around the tree. Simon deposits his own bag of gifts much more carefully than North did, taking the extra effort to bend down and place each package in a decorative manor. Each one is wrapped in a different kind of glossy printed paper, the styles clearly giving away which one is meant for who. It’s an extra layer of thoughtfulness that weathers North to nothing but her metal skeletal structure, and she wants to take her lesbian flag-wrapped present and fucking die.

She can’t take it anymore. Markus is handing out the gifts and Josh is lecturing them on early pagan traditions and Simon’s smile looks so pained and North just  _ can’t _ . She can’t do this anymore.

And suddenly that lesbian-flag is in her lap and now she has to tear through the paper while also pretending that whatever is inside isn’t going to break her instantly.

Her stress levels are rising. Past North would child herself for getting so worked up over Simon’s feelings. It doesn’t matter how he feels; it was  _ war _ .

Except it _ does _ matter. It matters more than she could ever realize then. She did what she had to do to survive, but is this really living? Is she happy with what she had to do to get here?

North is aware the room has gotten oddly quiet. She pulls herself from her thoughts, only to gaze upon Simon’s still face. She can’t read him with a simple glance, but she notices soon enough the clench in his jaw, the tightness of his eyes-

“North? You with us?”

North shoots Markus A Look. Now is not the time for friendly sarcasm. Now is the time for lighting a match and finally letting her oil tanker of a heart explode. But she can’t do that either. She’s trapped between sitting still here forever and opening this pandora box in her hands.

Simon is still looking at her. He must want her to open her gift. Of course he wants her to open it. He fucking bought it. It’s already a waste of money in her opinion.

But North finds her fingers slipping along the taped edge of the wrapping paper, breaking the adhesive with the edge of her fingernails, and ripping the flag in half.

It’s a cardboard box. Even that’s too much of a gesture. North pulls up the tape over the flaps and flicks it aside. Her hands are shaking. She wonders if anyone else can notice.

The box is full of darkness, but soon the darkness shifts to a warm grey, and when North touches its mass her sensors detect a cotton-poly blend. Her hands grip the mysterious fabric and lift it from its resting place.

Whatever terrible reality North was sure she would be faced with, she has met something far, far worse.

“Oh, Simon...” Josh breathes. “I didn’t know they still made them with that logo…”

“Is that-?” Markus interrupts himself. “It is! Wow...that brings back memories, Si. Where did you find it?”

North hears them from across the magical barrier of a world where she never left Simon, Simon never left her, and everything is absolutely, positively fine. But the longing on Josh’s face and the bittersweet joy on Markus’ keeps her from departing into that world entirely.

And Simon...he must feel that world beckoning to him too, because the raw, genuine emotion in his eyes is what finally does North in.

She drops the Detroit University sweatshirt back into its box, leaving her unprotected from the onslaught of her friend’s worries as hot artificial tears stream down to the tip of her chin.

Then the tears start pouring harder and everyone rushes to ask her  _ What’s wrong? Are you okay? _ , at which point North stands up and runs out of the room like her life depends on it.

It’s a sweatshirt. It’s a sweatshirt. It’s  _ The _ Sweatshirt. Not the jacket Simon shielded her with, but the garment that was shared amongst the three of them as a tangible reminder of their bond, their reliance, their  _ love _ .

Why the fuck would Simon go through the trouble of finding a replacement? And why would he ever give it to her?

The burning question only spurs North’s hysteria. Someone is rounding the corner with her, and all her inner demons scream out in protest. She dashes into the nearest room to hide, the approaching footsteps growing louder and louder despite the cover of the guest bedroom.

There’s a bare corner in the room North quickly takes residence of. It’s a long ways away from being homey, even from a spider’s perspective, but North can’t ever imagine leaving it once she sits down.

Why did she even come? What did she think would happen? How could they ever let bygones be bygones? North knows she is far smarter than this. Her foresight has improved immensely since the revolution, but anyone with a pair of eyes could have seen this outburst a mile away.

Maybe this is exactly why North came. To let herself get knocked down another peg. To feel the lashes of Simon’s presence and embrace the resentment meant for her. To not fix what she started, but to allow her mistakes to dominate her life further.

This is just what she wanted, isn’t it?

A shadow slinks into the room, curling around the drapes on the wall. It’s searching for he, catching onto the scent of her mania and following its trail.

North offers herself willingly. All she does before being spotted is stand. 

A figure steps into the room and faces her calmly. A figure with blue eyes and blond hair and a limp that no android doctor in Detroit has quite been able to fix. Simon has his hands folded loosely across his pelvis, his index fingers twitching against one another. He is unreadable, the previous give-away signs now gone.

But he’s here, and that says more than any divot in the corner of his lips.

“The gift sucked that bad?” he asks in his trademark tone. A mix of sarcasm and self-deprecation, with a dash of smugness on the side. A half-smile appears on his face, but if North blinked she would’ve missed it.

She doesn’t know how to respond to normal Simon. This can’t be normal Simon, to begin with. This is still unknown Simon, who lies on the untracked lands of their oversights.

North knows this is her moment to speak, but the last ounce of courage she has left can only force her mouth open. Words are what dug their hole; all they’re good for now is digging deeper. She presses her lips together, the power she wields terrifying her into submission.

No, North has lived through too much to make that fatal mistake. This is the one and only time she may speak, to use her efforts to find some common ground, and if her message rings true her spoils will be that of a genuine smile and a warmth of the soul.

She opens her mouth, as scared as she might be, and accepts whatever follows.

“I’m tired...okay? I’m...I’m tired of not saying anything. Of acting weird around you and you acting weird around me.”

Simon’s eyes widen. He realizes what she’s doing.

“The truth is...I meant what I said,” North confesses, her thirium pump impossibly tight in her chest. “But I-I was wrong, and I was  _ wrong _ for not realizing  _ why _ until later. I should've stayed on roof and helped you back to Jericho at least... I can't imagine how hard that was to get back to Jericho on your own.”

She could stop there. The bulk of her regrets has been established. But North isn’t done yet.

“I think I realized how badly I fucked up when...w-when you didn’t tell me how you even made it back in one piece... We used to tell each other everything, or at least...what mattered. You know more than anyone what Eden was like, and...and I know...I  _ know-” _

Her composure is slipping, but Simon’s face is shifting farther into an actual emotion the more she talks. She keeps going, too far along to give up now.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness...I don’t. I just want you to know how  _ grateful _ I am that you’re alive. A-And you can go do human things and android things and whatever you want because that’s what  _ you want _ . And I respect that. I really do. E-Even if...if I give you all shit for it. That’s something I gotta work on, and it’s just...I don’t think I can look past all that’s keeping me from doing what you all like to do. But I’m...I’m…”

Her tears are flowing harder now, harder than they’ve ever flown her entire life.

“I’m so fucking  _ happy _ for you. Y-You deserve to be happy, Si. And I’m sorry I’m the  _ one thing _ keeping you from being really happy. I’m just...I’m so glad you’re  _ alive _ . I know you’re not okay...but at least you’re alive…”

North squeezes her eyes shut, a particularly rough sob rocking her entire body. She reels from the impact, cupping her face in her hands to try and mask how much damage her actions have caused. There’s no one to blame for this but herself, and North is more than willing to pay the price, but there’s no need for Simon to suffer with her. At least this way she may be able to set him free.

Two cautious steps are taken, and a delicate hand is put on her arm.

“I’m glad  _ you’re  _ alive.”

North’s reaction is instantaneous. She explodes into a mess of tears and muffled cries. Driven back to a lost second nature, she buries her face in Simon’s chest. He stiffens at the contact, but soon embraces her proper, enveloping North in his arms and holding her close. She trembles in his grasp, futile to stop the swell of emotions inside her. She doesn’t know how to feel; she’s feeling too much.

Simon tucks his head into North’s shoulder, riding the rocky waves with her. She can feel him shaking, and puts a hand to the back of his head. His hair is entangled in her fingers, and she rubs soothing circles where his spinal cord connects to his skull.

They should be surrounded by rust and the inescapable state of decay, but the rot Carl’s house lacks can be found inside of them. And little by little it’s being cleansed.

“I’m sorry,” Simon shudders. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

North shakes her head. “You don’t have to say anything, Si. Please, you don’t.”

“I was just...I was just  _ angry _ . A-And of all people, it was  _ you _ -”

“I know. I know. It’s okay. Really.  _ Please _ , don’t forgive me.”

“But I  _ want _ to.” He pulls away, just far enough to where he can see her. “A-And maybe not today, but...I will, eventually. And I hope…”

North smiles in disbelief. “There’s nothing to forgive you for, Si. I don’t hold what you said against you.”

Simon frowns, eyes scrunching together. “That’s not fair, North. I-I was going to leave you-”

“-After I left you. An eye for an eye...and the world goes blind...”

He looks at her quizzically. “What?”

“Nothing. Just...something Markus said. I really do love my gift.”

Simon beams lightly. “I figured since we lost the original…”

“Am I gonna have to share it like before?” she asks.

“No, it’s yours...but if you  _ want _ to share it…”

North chuckles. It’s wet and groggy, but a chuckle all the same. “It looks pretty warm, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Simon pulls her closer, wrapping her in another hug. “One day, I promise.”

North leans into him, savoring the contact that she hasn’t had for so long. “Okay….If you say so.”

“I am saying so.”

Her nose crinkles. “Simon says.”

She can feel Simon roll his eyes. “Simon says one day...and he means it.”

  
  


The first thing North does when they walk back into the living room is slide on her new sweatshirt. It is just as warm as it looks, and something inside of her is finally mended.

Simon scoots closer to her before they resume the gift exchange, his knee knocking against her as a solid reminder of what’s to come. His movements are more fluid, his voice less strained, and it is a sight to behold.

He gives Markus a present printed with white doves, the symbolism so heavy handed it makes North want to gag. Markus finds no such offense to it. In fact, it makes the leader laugh. Beneath the wrapping is a neck pillow, noise-canceling headphones, and a fuzzy blanket colored like the bisexual pride flag. Anything Simon touches is destined to be prideful, and North hopes their friend can use his gifts towards some well-deserved rest.

Josh’s gift is wrapped in paper printed with old-timey political cartoons. Most of them appear to be from the American Revolution, with that chopped-up snake one making an appearance. His gift is a hand-knit beanie made to look like the Demisexual pride flag, and with Simon’s expert hands it looks absolutely flawless. Josh slips it over his head instantly, grinning with joy. His other gift is patch embroidered with the docking company Jericho once belonged to, and North fully expects it to be attached to the beanie by morning.

Markus doles out his gifts. Everyone gets a hand-painted mural of themselves, with vibrant palettes to match their personalities and experiences. North finds herself tearing up again as she looks upon herself. The dedication put into every stroke speaks loudly of all Markus could ever want to tell them, and the portrait of empowerment in North’s hands is the greatest compliment anyone has ever given her.

The presents from Josh are crudely wrapped, with excess wrapping paper scrunched up and tapped awkwardly on the sides. However, the level of adhesive applied to keep them all together makes it cleared he tried. North’s present is uncharacteristically light for it’s rather wide size. She jostles it around, her curiosity bubbling.

“You could, like, open it,” Simon suggest smugly.

North side-eyes him. “It’s  _ tradition _ , Si. Gotta shake ‘em first, right Josh?”

Josh is clearly on cloud nine right now. “Yeah, but you’re not gonna figure it out just doing that.”

Giving in, North tears into her present. Simon and Markus do the same. Inside hers is a packet covered in a plastic casing. She rips it off and finds a picture of Jericho inside.

“What...Josh?”

“I did some research,” he says, rubbing the back of his head nervously. “I wanted to know more about Jericho before it became our home. Everything I found, I put in a little booklet.”

Everyone flips through their booklets, which is filled to the brim with detailed paragraphs and pictures from a bygone era. North’s thumb caresses over a closeup of the inner hull, her memories of its layout resurfacing in her mind.

“Josh, did you write  _ all  _ of this?” Simon asks. There’s a hitch in his voice, and when North looks she sees his eyes are glossed over.

Josh blushes. “I...may have gotten a bit carried away. Sorry.”

Simon sets his booklet in his lap, blinking away tears. “This is...it’s...thank you.”

He leans across their semicircle and pulls Josh into him. Josh allows himself to he held, patting Simon’s back to try and comfort him. “It’s not all about its founding. I wrote some stuff about us, but I won’t give any spoilers.”

“Ugh, but it’s  _ sooooo loooooong, _ ” North groans, but she knows the grin on her face gives herself away. Josh sticks his tongue out at her and Markus laughs again.

Then it’s North’s turn to play Santa. Rather nervously, she hands everyone their gifts. Markus loves his paints, which isn’t news. He actually starts rattling off all the other colors he can mix together with the ones given to him, and it hits North how big of a nerd he actually is. He puts Josh to shame.

Josh loves his old man books, which also isn’t news. He holds up his new copy of  _ War and Peace _ and smirks at her. “Nice.”

North flips him off. “Okay, Si. Last but not least.”

Simon smiles. He takes great care opening his gift, as if he were unfolding a human infant from its swaddle. His slow pace gives North plenty of time to grow wary of her purchases and fucking panic. After all the shit they just said to each other, her gift needs to be good. It has to be, right? Oh God, her impulse buys are going to cost her that day. The Day. She left the receipt back at New Jericho like an idiot. Fuck, he’s going to hate it-

Simon pulls out a rainbow scarf and snorts. “Well, this is certainly on brand.”

North smiles warily. “Uh huh.”

He wraps the scarf around his neck and pulls out the next item. “Ah,  _ Love Simon _ . Appropriate.”

“And the book, because you can’t have enough gayness.”

“Very true.” Simon sets down the movie and reaches inside his present for the last item. The smile vanishes from her face, and once again he is unreadable.

North’s stress level rises. “You...you can return anything you don’t like. I got the receipt still, so you can get something you-”

“You got me cookie cutters,” Simon stops her. He holds up a netted bag filled with flat, plastic molds. Each cutter is shaped like some random Christmas icon, like a snowman, an angel, etc. It’s hardly anything to give such pause, but judging by the lack of thought it implies North kicks herself for thinking it was a good idea to include.

“I...got you cookie cutters.”

“For baking.”

“Yes...for baking.”

Simon smiles brighter than he ever has before. “Thank you North.”

“You’re... _ oh _ .” North smiles sheepishly. Nothing like accidental healing to bring friends together. “You’re welcome, Simon. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

 

_ The Polar Express _ was bullshit, but  _ It’s A Wonderful Life _ is a masterpiece. That North has to admit.

They end Christmas Eve with a bang, curling up on Carl’s couch to watch the old black-and-white movie with the old man’s snarky commentary.

“Hard to believe this movie was old when I was born,” Carl quips. He takes a bite of the snickerdoodle in his hands and chuckles with his mouth full.

“Dad, gross. Crumbs,” Markus mumbles lazily. He is laying on his father’s right, his head in North’s lap and bi blanket tucked around him like a cocoon. He is completely, without a doubt, the most relaxed he has ever been in a long, long time.

North gives him a gentle noogie as George Bailey goes running down the streets of his hometown wishing everyone a Merry Christmas. “Let the man live. Nothing wrong with a few crumbs.”

George makes it back to his house, embraces his kids, and gives a weepy apology to his wife. It’s touching, especially after the horrific nightmare world he’s just escaped from. North can’t help but get the feeling they were meant to watch this movie tonight. With Simon attached to her at the hip, witnessing George grapple with his effect on other people’s lives hits way too close to home. But now, it’s in the best way possible.

The townspeople come together to raise money for his struggling bank, and Josh is the first one to start crying “D-Dear God...who’s gonna count all that money?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” North asks, but  there’s a stray tear in her eye too. She hears Simon huff out a quiet laugh. As nonchalantly as she can, she threads her hand through his and gives it a squeeze. He squeezes back.

Simon won’t forgive her today, he may not forgive her tomorrow, but North is more than willing to wait. Even if it takes a million years. As long as he is in her life, that powerful grace can take all the time it needs to pardon her.

_ “Look daddy! Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings!” _

North leans her head against Simon’s shoulder. She closes her eyes, her audio processors ringing with the bell’s sweet chime.

Maybe human holidays aren’t so terrible after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
